


Fresh Snow and Old Books and Green Earth

by TheLoversOfMountains



Category: Beauty and the Beast (1991), Beauty and the Beast (2017), Beauty and the Beast - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Brooding, Daydreaming, Declarations Of Love, F/M, I feel like I spoil it if I tag too much, I'm sorry?, My First Fanfic, Sadness, Transformation, What Have I Done, Wish Fulfillment, oh well, pls enjoy, the beginning is super angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-22
Updated: 2017-05-22
Packaged: 2018-11-03 13:34:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10968297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLoversOfMountains/pseuds/TheLoversOfMountains
Summary: What is going through the Beast's mind as he sits atop his lonely tower, waiting for Belle to return? What is Belle thinking, sitting at home after saving her father? Will they find their way back to each other?This is my first ever fanfic and also my first ever summary so bear with me, I love you all





	Fresh Snow and Old Books and Green Earth

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! My name's Erin, and this is my first ever fanfic, thanks for coming aboard! Make sure you leave Kudos and comment and let me know if you wanna see more from me!

The Beast sat on his haunches atop the tallest tower of his graying castle. He had been still and silent ever since he had last seen Belle’s golden gown disappear over the horizon. He didn’t know quite how many hours he’d been there, but the sun had gone down and risen again behind the dark clouds since he had set himself on that ledge. Snow piled on his shoulders, and though his fur prevented his physical form from frost-bites, it provided no shelter from the chill that stole through his veins. What fell was not snow that sparkled in the sunlight, or that could be scooped up and thrown at a laughing companion. It was cold and gray and settled upon him like dead weight. 

He had been a fool to love her, he kept telling himself, but he couldn’t bring himself to believe the words. His heart, broken as it was, still beat deliriously fast at the thought of her, her smile, her laugh, the way her eyebrow quirked when she thought him particularly ridiculous. He closed his eyes and pictured her just last week, running from him only to grab another snowball. Her bright eyes had been dancing as she looked over her shoulder and she had shrieked with laughter as she slid and fell in the snowy garden.

He opened his eyes to the gray world and pushed away the memory, once golden and shining, now a cold dagger in his heart. He pushed to his feet, wincing at the stiffness, and went down the steps to his room. Had it been years earlier, he would have torn the rest of the paintings to pieces, would have ripped the doors from their hinges, would have smashed the ornate bed unfit for a Beast. But she had changed him, and the anger that had gripped his heart now drained from him with every step he took. He reached the bed, the sheets clean and neat as always, and fell onto it with a great exhale. A sadness still gripped at his heart, and he suddenly felt impossibly weary. After a period of staring at the ceiling, he fell into a fitful sleep.

When he awoke, the world was dark, and the wind blew outside his window. He went to the alcove that held the rose, so small now that most of the petals had fallen. He reached out a paw, and for the hundredth time wished he could feel the cool crystal with his own human fingertips. His mind wandered, and he felt with an acute sharpness a desire to feel so much more than crystal. Oh, how he wished he could caress Belle’s cheek now, how he wished to run strong, slender fingers through her silky hair. But he had sent her away, she had gone, and no matter how much he loved her she was never coming back. The rose petals would fall, and his only companions would become cold, unmoving objects, and he would spend the rest of his days up on that ledge waiting for her. 

Hours later, the Beast once again sat on his haunches atop the tallest tower. Around him, bricks fell and knocked free chunks of his once grand château. Wind blew and snow fell, but he did not move, did not blink. He simply sat and watched the horizon, watched for a flash of gold in the endless gray of his cursed wood. Memories of her swirled through his mind, were the only thing that kept his eyes open and his heart beating. His hard glare at the outside world softened with the thought of the wrinkle between her brows when she was engrossed in a book, and the inflection of her voice when she read to him. His heart ached with affection and grief when he thought about the magical night they had shared dancing and how beautiful she had been. How lucky he had been for a horrid creature like him to witness even a fraction of the brilliant light she gave off. As he sat on the ledge, the world disappeared around him and he was lost in his mind. 

 

o0O0o

 

Belle sat in her cottage, tending to her father. She had raced home and found him about to be dragged away by Gaston’s goons. She had leaped from Philippe’s back, eyes blazing, and demanded they release him. She revealed how everything her father said was true, that there was a Beast, but that he was thoughtful and kind, and how Gaston had twisted the story in order to gain control over her. Her utter outrage, paired with the very real and very beautiful gown she wore, had been enough for the townspeople to believe her father’s innocence, even if they still did not believe in the castle that was supposed to be hidden in plain sight. She had kept the magic mirror to herself, deeming it too precious of a gift to share with the village, and being too fearful of their reaction to the Beast’s face. 

Now that her father was safe, that she was back in her cottage with the fire blazing, she felt a conflict in her heart. She was happy to be where she was familiar, where she had been raised, where she hadn’t been for so long… (though she was not quite sure how long, time seemed to go faster yet not pass at all at that castle…) but already she felt a pull towards the woods, towards him. She didn’t quite understand it, but the Beast had made her feel more at peace than she had been in a while. She thought back to silent, warm nights by the library fire, curled up in the corner of the plush couch across from him in his enormous arm-chair. She smiled as she remembered trying not to laugh at the intermittent nodding of his huge head, how he would let out a low grumble of a snore and wake himself up with a huff, and she would quickly duck her head behind her Shakespeare so as to not reveal she had been watching him. 

As her mind wandered, it landed on one of those nights where the winds had howled and the snow had pounded the glass of the windows…

 

~  
The cold, as much as poor Coggsworth had tried, could not be stopped from coming in the cracks of the old château. Belle was curled up on the corner of the couch closest to the fire, with a heavy blanket atop her, and unable to concentrate on reading her favorite book because she simply could not stop shuddering. She was a small woman, and she simply could never be warm enough. She sighed, and looked up to find Beast’s clear blue eyes watching her intently.

“You’re cold” 

Belle smirked. “An astute observation.”

Beast rolled his eyes, but Belle could see the corner of his mouth quirking into a smile. “Do you want another blanket? I’m sure Mrs Potts has gotten more hidden around here somewhere…”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to bother her, she’s probably already settled in with Chip…” Belle stood and placed another log on the fire and drew the blanket closer to herself. “Really, I’ll be just fine.” She dragged the couch a foot closer and settled in again. Beast gave her a lingering look of concern, but finally went back to his book. 

More time passed, and though the log had taken the edge off for a little while, soon Belle’s shuddering resumed in earnest. When she dropped her book to draw the blanket closer, Beast’s eyes snapped up and narrowed in her direction. Belle grimaced. As if he had decided something in his head, Beast let out a decisive huff and stood. He made his way over to the couch and picked up Belle’s book from the floor, said a gruff, “Budge up,” then sat right between her and the arm of the couch. 

“I find that I am seldom cold, whether it be from my size or my fur, so perhaps my proximity could offer you some relief,” Beast muttered, and Belle could almost sense a hint of nervous energy radiating from him. But then she realized—it wasn’t just nervous energy, pure warmth seemed to roll off of him and leach into her, and upon this revelation she swiftly curled herself onto his lap. If he was startled, he said nothing, and Belle wasted no time turning her face into his chest and sighing with relief. After a split second, Beast’s arms wrapped around her, and gradually her shudders subsided. Belle hadn’t felt so comfortably warm in her life. 

After a few minutes, Beast opened her book and began to read where she had left off, his low voice rumbling from his chest and rolling through her. He made the story come alive in a way the voice inside her head simply could not, and she cherished the moments when he read to her. However, the warmth that now tingled through her made her eyelids heavy, and her breath slow. His cotton shirt and thick fur were soft against her cheek, and his scent of fresh snow and old books and green earth lulled her into a deep, restful sleep, the deepest she’d slept since she’d arrived at the castle… 

When she awoke, she found herself in her warm bed with many quilts and her book on the nightstand, opened to the right page…   
~

 

Belle’s cheeks warmed at the memory, though suddenly her cottage felt altogether too empty and cold even with her sleeping father and fire blazing. Once more she felt a pull towards the unseen castle, and remembered the forlorn look in the Beast’s eyes as she had left him, all alone again, and she knew she had to go back. She couldn’t bear to be without the one person who made her feel whole, who made her laugh, who challenged her ideas, who made her heart beat a little bit faster when his impossibly blue eyes landed on her. Beast or not, he was the only one besides his father whom she could never bear to lose. 

Taking out the enchanted mirror, she requested to see him, and her heart dropped when she saw him huddled on the top ledge of the castle, such a dead look in his eyes, such pain and longing. She realized that he grieved her, that he truly thought himself unworthy of affection and friendship, that he thought he would never see her again once he set her free, and it broke her heart.

Making her decision, she left a note for her father and packed some clothing before donning her cloak once more…

 

o0O0o

 

Beast stared blankly out the window of his room. Once the sun had started to go down, he made his way back if only to appease the worrying of Mrs Potts. In front of him was the rose, three petals remaining before he would be damned forever to this cursed form. If only he could see Belle again before the rose died, to tell her how much he loved her even if she did not feel the same. He sat on the edge of the bed, and dropped his head forward in sheer exhaustion, letting out a great sigh. He leaned back on the pillows and his eyes closed…

…And opened with a start with the feeling of small hands on his cheeks. He gasped and jerked away in panic before registering what was in front of him. His eyes widened at the sight of Belle, standing at the edge of his bed, her arms still stretched out towards him. As he stared, she let out a moan and scrambled onto the bed to embrace him, “I was so afraid you would be dead when I got here,” Her voice was shaking, something he had never, ever, heard before, as she buried her face in the fur of the crook of his neck. With the first inhale of her clean scent everything came crashing back and all he could do was hold her tight.

“I missed you” he rumbled into her hair.

“I know,” she said, “but I was always going to come back to you.”

Beast stiffened, “but… why? Why would you return to this horrid place, the home of the monster that imprisoned you?”

Belle pulled back to look him in the eyes, and placed her hands on his cheeks. “This place is not horrid, it is warm, and inviting, and filled with exquisite people, and most importantly, you. This place stopped being a prison when I realized what an extraordinary man you are, not a monster at all, but a reader, a romantic, a most remarkable friend, and the most genuine person I have ever met”

A tear slipped down Beast’s cheek at her words, and he couldn’t stop himself from turning and pressing a small kiss to the inside of her wrist—a wrist that was cold as ice. As Belle’s heaving breaths slowed, she also became colder, and it occurred to him that she had just ridden through a violent snow storm to see him, and if she did not warm up soon, she would begin the horrid shuddering that she was prone to. He took her hands in his gigantic paws and drew her closer on the bed, and released the clasp on the soaked cape she wore. She seemed to understand, and began to try to unlace her boots in earnest, only for the Beast to take over for her shaking fingers. Once they had shed her of her soaked outerwear, he lifted the covers and guided her under, hoping his light sheet and quilt would be enough to warm her—he had never needed much as far as bedclothes. He began to rise, when he felt her fingers knot themselves in his shirtsleeve.

“Please don’t leave,” Belle said in almost panic, “I've only just gotten you back.” After a second, he nodded, and she lifted the covers and tugged him in. He drew her close and held her against his chest, carding his claws gently through her hair. Immediately her breathing slowed and she sighed with contentment, and Beast’s heart sang with affection for her. He whispered it to her sleeping form as bittersweet certainty settled in his heart. 

“I love you.”

 

Later that night, Belle woke to find Beast peacefully asleep, curled protectively around her smaller frame. His face had relaxed, the creases on his brow and at the bottom corners of his mouth had subsided, and suddenly Belle could see the young, kind man that had been trapped not just by the transformed face, but by self-loathing, hardship, and others’ hatred. Her heart ached for him, she wished she knew how to spare him from the fate that had befallen him. She was terrified of never being able to see joy or curiosity soften his features, or, as her stomach flipped, the strange and dark look he had given her when she had first come downstairs in her golden gown. She wished with all her heart for him to be happy, man or beast, and knew that she would never leave him alone again. With a start, she realized that the swirl and tumble of emotions inside her was not many, but just one. At her realization, she became certain, and she whispered it to his sleeping form.

“I love you.”

 

Hours later, the last petal fell.

 

o0O0o

 

When Beast awoke, he felt abnormally cold, even as warm golden sun filtered through the windows. He pulled the warm body next to him closer, tucking his nose into their hair, and inhaled deeply. When Belle’s sweet smell flooded his senses, his eyes immediately snapped open wide and his heart started pounding. I’m sharing a bed with Belle. I’m currently cuddling with Be— She stirred, tucking herself closer into his chest. My chest—!

He gasped loudly and sat up straight, eyes devouring his body. He threw off his covers and scrambled out of bed, falling to the floor before getting unsteadily to his feet. Feet! Human Feet! 

“Oh my God,” he moaned, staring at his human hands, the long, slender, hairless fingers and short, blunt fingernails. He started at the sound of his own baritone voice, low and resonant as it was, still so much higher and younger than the bass of his beastly form. He took in his strong arms, dusted by blond hair, to his lean chest, swimming in his old, larger linen shirt. His pants sagged around his narrow hips and he stared once more at the very human feet and toes planted unsteadily on the ground.

He looked up, an expression of pure shock and awe on his face, and saw Belle, eyes wide, staring back at him from the bed. 

“Belle,” He said, voice cracking, and as he made eye contact with her, recognition flooded her face and she stood from the bed, walking towards him as if he was a spooked horse. She reached out a gentle hand to touch his cheek, and as he felt her fingertips against his bare skin he closed his eyes and a tear spilled down his cheek. When he opened his eyes again he saw tears on her cheeks as well, and reached up to cup her face with his own shaking hands.

“How did you do it?” She whispered. 

His heart pounded as he told her, “In order to break the curse, somebody had to fall in love with me, even with my hideous form.” Her eyes widened and he felt her cheeks heat up under his fingers. “and, I had to fall in love with them in return.” He couldn’t wait another second to tell her—“God, Belle, I love you so much I feel my heart could burst”

Tears flowed freely when she replied, “I love you, too.”

“I would very much like to kiss you no—!” She cut him off with her soft lips on his mouth. A low growl rumbled in the base of his chest, and as he pulled her closer, her arms wrapped around his neck and he couldn’t help but groan as she flooded his senses. She whimpered as she was pulled into his body, and, as tenacious as she always was, matched his passion in earnest. 

When they finally separated, even by just a couple inches, a question that had been nagging at Belle’s mind finally bubbled out. 

“What’s your real name?”

He wrinkled his brow, and his eyes widened with the realization that the memory of his name no longer evaded him, something that had plagued him since the curse had set in.

“Adam,” he gasped. He then laughed, “Adam, the first and ultimate man, only remembers his name once he is truly man again. Seems fitting, non?”

Belle laughed, and agreed. “Well, Adam, what do you say we see what other wonderful things have been restored from this curse?”

His face opening in joy, he grabbed her hand and they ran from the room to see the rest of his magnificent château.

**Author's Note:**

> Sick! Thanks for making it through! What do you think? Want a saucy sequel? Want another one in a whole different direction? Let me know!


End file.
